


Falling

by BuckyBarnes8999



Series: The Unmade [5]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Captain Hydra, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Control, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyBarnes8999/pseuds/BuckyBarnes8999
Summary: Something is troubling The Captain. His mind is broken, something is missing.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Leo Fitz/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers/Johann Schmidt
Series: The Unmade [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570627
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> You have been warned.

The Captain rocked gently under his lover.   
He was so docile, so compliant. Johann usually liked that in one of his conquests but not from The Captain. He was chalking it up to the man not yet being used to the changes.   
It was true, The Captain was not yet used to the constant interface he saw, not yet used to the strange pull he felt when he moved his eyes. It hurt when he closed them. 

He was certainly not used to looking in the mirror. 

Now he was looking up at Johann, who was buried deep inside him, and lazily pumping himself. When the man filled him he merely whimpered. His own release was equally muted. He filled his hand with a sharp intake of breath then licked it clean. 

When Johann withdrew from him, he curled up in a ball, pulling the silken sheets over himself. 

Johann frowned. "Geliebter, are you alright?" 

The Captain flinched away when Johann's hand touched the left side of his head. 

"F-fine, Sir." 

Sir?

The Captain hadn't called him Sir since they'd started their little romance.   
"You'll get used to the changes soon, I promise you, mein Schatz." He gripped The Captain's chin and turned him to look at him. "That is all this is, correct?" 

The Captain's eyes closed slowly. For what felt like the hundredth time since he'd woken up, tears slid down from his right eye.   
Johann couldn't stand this. He couldn't stand the way it made him feel a mix of loathing and pity. Those weren't things he wanted to feel about The Captain.   
He was meant to be his perfect lover. 

"I love you." The Captain sobbed, breaking Johann's train of thought. So that hadn't changed. That was still there. 

Johann pulled the covers up around The Captain's shivering body. "I'm going to work on a few things. I'll be back this evening. Eat something, do whatever you like." 

When Johann was gone he tried to sleep, but the interface lingered in his vision for too long after he closed his eyes. That would have to be adjusted, he'd have to tell Zola. 

Johann had an easel and a plethora of paints set out for him. The gesture touched him. Perhaps he'd try to paint today. 

For now he just wanted to lay in bed. His heart was heavy, he couldn't exactly place the emotion, he couldn't place exactly why he felt this way. 

A knock at the door made him groan. He covered his head with the sheets but the knocking was insistent.   
He kicked the covers off and strode to the ornate doors, throwing them open. 

An intern with a cart flinched back, his eyes flicked over The Captain's naked form then tried not to settle on his face. Or his dick. 

"What?" The Captain hissed when the young man didn't announce himself, state his business. 

The intern opened and closed his mouth several times, clearly frightened. "I. I- um I--" he stammered. 

"I, I, I what?" The Captain growled, annoyed, turning his hand in the air in an effort to draw the words out of the man. 

"I was told to bring you food!" He gasped out in a single breath, indicating the cart he had by his side.

The Captain sighed and stepped out of his way, gesturing his permission to enter the room.   
The cart rattled slightly as it was pushed into the room.   
The intern looked around, impressed at this ornate living space, admiring all the silk and brocade, leather and rich wood. 

The Captain closed and locked the door behind them, the intern didn't notice. "You're new." He stated managing to sound at least interested. "I've never seen you." 

The young man was unloading little plates of things and putting them on the long side table. Johann definitely had this brought up himself. He knew The Captain didn't like to eat heavy, knew he liked to taste things, to nibble.   
"J-just started last week." How nervous he was, his accent was just lovely. Adorable. 

The Captain had a dark emotion welling up inside him. It had been since this kid had looked at his face and so abruptly looked away. He could devour this curly haired kid. He knew it. He knew he could consume him. 

A smirk played along his lips. He used his foot to push the cart away from the intern. A few of the little plates crashed to the floor shattering, spilling fresh berries and cream, a tiny pastry and some sort of sausage dish on the polished floor.

The intern flinched once at the sudden movement, then again when The Captain stepped close to him.  
"I'm sorry!" He gasped out, putting his hands up. "W-whatever I did!"   
He was walking backward and that was exactly what The Captain wanted. 

The Captain pushed the young man backward onto the bed and crawled over him. His face inches from the intern's. He practically screamed, covering his mouth with his hands. 

"Are you afraid of me?"   
The Captain grinned wide, sliding his lips just barely touching, along the young man's jawline. 

He was so tense under him, terrified like a caged rabbit. His heart raced so fast it ached in his chest.   
"Yes!" He choked out. Of course he was. 

"Does this help?" He turned his head and peered down at him with his left eye.   
It was gleaming metal, the iris an unnatural blue light. The blue light ran in a pattern of circuitry up the side of The Captain's head, also a gleaming sweep of metal that covered from just below the eye, back to the crown of his head. The edges of metal and skin were angry pink and the scars were a weblike network that, in The Captain's opinion, ruined his lovely face. 

The intern was pressing himself back as though the mattress would absorb him, as though he could slip through the very molecular structure of the solid bed and escape. 

"What's your name, boy?" The Captain sucked a mark out on the man's neck, tasting his fear, feeling the way he flinched and struggled. 

"L-leo" he gasped out, squeezing his eyes closed. His hands were now both trapped in one of The Captain's unnaturally strong ones. He was so acutely aware of the man's nakedness. 

"Do you want to be mine, Leo?" The Captain purred against his ear. "Only mine?" 

Leo's mouth went dry. The chill of fear settled deep in his stomach. "W-why?"   
He questioned. 

"Because I would enjoy it." The Captain pressed an almost chaste kiss on Leo's trembling lips. 

"What about me?" Leo was panicking. He'd been trained in this. Keep asking your attacker questions. Disarm them, or make them like you. 

"What do you mean?" He kissed along Leo's neck, left little marks here and there. 

"You d-didn't ask me before doing this." He gasped, a pained little sound when The Captain's free hand gripped him between his thighs. 

"I'm asking now." 

"N-not how this works." Leo tried pulling his hands free but they were held fast. "Might've said yes if you'd have asked p-properl-- nnh... Stop."   
The Captain's hand was gently teasing his length to hardness, he couldn't help his body's reaction. "O-oh god." He threw his head back when that hand slipped into his pants encircling him. His hips bucked up of their own accord. 

"So you don't want this? I'll stop." Would he? 

Leo knew The Captain's reputation, hell, there was a video on it at orientation. Blood and torn flesh. His bloody history. 

"Please." Was all he managed to whine out. 

The Captain quirked his single brow.   
"Please what? Stop? Continue?" His hand continued to pump Leo's dick. His thumb slid over the tip, drawing a sharp little sound from Leo. 

"Please stop."  
Leo's hips chased the hand as it retreated from his pants. 

"Get out then." The Captain's voice that had been deep and sensual was now cold.

"I--" 

"Out!" 

Leo hesitated only a heartbeat but it was enough. The Captain gripped the collar of his uniform and shook him hard.   
"Do you know who I am?" His voice was low and deadly. "I give an order and I expect it followed. If you _ever_ cross my path again, it'll be the end of you. You hear I'm around, you better hide. Make yourself invisible, Leo."   
Leo knew he'd fucked up. Knew he'd messed up the entire thing. He was here on orders. Not Hydra orders, these came directly from Nick Fury, well Nick Fury via Agent Coulson.  
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Leo's mind raced. He had to fix it, he had to fix his mistakes.   
In a panic he pushed his lips against The Captain's.   
The Captain was only mildly startled, it didn't register externally. On the outside he just took it in stride.   
His fingers knotted in Leo's hair, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss.   
Leo whimpered into his mouth, his body was at war with him. He was relatively innocent in regards to these types of things and all this was making his head spin. He was actually 98% sure he wasn't even into men. Especially not men like The Captain.  
But _damn_ he was a good kisser.

When they parted, Leo's breath Was coming in shaky little gasps, each breath trembling.

"Changing your mind?" The Captain smirked, triumphantly. 

"I--" his job description certainly did not include this but he had to fix it. He swallowed down his fear and nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm just af-afraid." 

"You're right to be" 

He was so gentle. This couldn't possibly be the same man. This absolutely couldn't be the nearly inhuman beast of a man that both S.H.I.E.L.D and Hydra alike had warned him about. 

Sweet Christ he knew what he was doing. 

He had Leo out of his clothes and was worshipping every inch of him. His mouth and fingers teased every part of him. 

He gasped out pretty moans and writhed on the sheets. Fingers worked into him with such precision and skill that The Captain's cock didn't even hurt his virgin hole.   
The Captain's cock hit a spot inside him and his vision whited. He wasn't going to last, and it was with a shameful realization that this was probably the best sexual experience he'd ever had. 

"Are you going to cum for me, my pretty boy?" The Captain purred as he rolled his hips. "Don't hold back." The hand The Captain had wrapped around Leo's cock quickened it's pace. 

He found himself gasping out "h-harder" and pushing himself down on the dick within him.   
The Captain obliged and Leo's eyes rolled back. His moaning increased in pitch. "I'm c-- I'm ahhh! Christ!" Leo arched spilling his release over his stomach and The Captain's hand.   
The Captain licked his hand, tasting him. "Lovely." He purred as he pulled out. He wiped his dick off on the sheets and moved to where he was kneeling over Leo's chest, one leg on either side of his torso.   
He took himself in hand and slid the leaking tip of his dick around Leo's lips. "Open." He ordered softly. 

Leo whined, this was certainly not something he ever saw himself doing. His lips parted anyway, letting The Captain slide inside.   
He almost recoiled at the taste but soon adjusted, letting him have his way with his mouth.   
"Yes, that's the way. That's it, you're doing so well." The Captain moaned out his praises. 

He had the courtesy of not cumming in Leo's mouth. He instead painted the young man's face, streaking his features with white. 

Once he was finished, he hopped off him and tossed him a linen napkin from the food cart. "Take a nap. Your legs aren't going to want to cooperate. It was your first time right?" The way he spoke, it was edging on disinterest. Like he was just saying what he thought he was supposed to. 

Leo felt shame welling up in him, he curled himself up in the sheets and squeezed his eyes closed. "It was." He nearly sobbed. 

The Captain shook his head dismissively to himself. His melancholic mood was returning. Nothing he did seemed to placate his deep distress. He'd tried it all, a mission that went spectacularly. He'd entirely broken a different frightened intern. He'd been punished for that, but he only took it with a whimper. He'd tried gentility, like with Leo. Nothing made him feel quite like himself. 

With a sigh he sat down on a stool before the easel. He didn't have a plan in mind when he picked up his brushes. His mind was unfocused when he chose the colours. 

The object taking form was all silver and red and eyes, seafoam eyes.   
The image his brain lent his hand to paint caused a wave of nausea and utter despair to well within him.   
He'd painted someone he couldn't place. He knew he should be able to but the space was hollow. Not just hollow, it was missing. Torn away. The Captain knew that. There was a part of his memory ripped away.   
When the tears started he couldn't help but sob out loud, not silently like when Johann was there. He gripped the edges of the canvas and wailed.

His Lamentations became a rage, his hands splintered the wood of the frame and he tossed the canvas to the ground, ripping it, he destroyed the paints, the stool, everything. 

When that was absolute obliterated his eyes scanned the room. They briefly fell on Leo who was backed against the headboard, looking at him with terrified eyes.   
No, no, he wouldn't hurt Leo. He knew he'd get no satisfaction from it.

"Run." Was all he told the kid and run he did, leaving behind his clothes, ignoring how tender his ass was. 

When The Captain was alone he tried to calm himself. He knew what he really needed and it didn't lie in some phantom on a canvas or even in Johann's arms. It was within his own flesh. 

He knew who he needed to see.

Brock Rumlow had been back at the complex for three days following his discharge from medical. He was angry. More angry than he'd ever been. 

When he got the call that he was needed in the private interrogation chamber he cracked his neck and stretched. He was going to enjoy this, enjoy it probably more than he should.   
His hand slid down, cupping himself, they'd finally been able to fix him, but it wasn't the same. His flesh felt strange, sensation he was used to feeling a certain way was now foreign. He supposed he'd get used to it. 

For now his heavy boots took him down several flights if stairs into the bowels of the complex. No natural light penetrated here, no sound escaped.   
He used his keycard for the first few doors but after that everything was eye scans and fingerprints, the final door required a blood sample, taken by a tiny needle in a niche designed for a fingertip. 

What he didn't expect to see when the door hissed open, was the broad, muscular, tattooed back of The Captain. He didn't expect him naked and kneeling at the center of the room. 

"The hells this?" Rumlow asked, skirting the perimeter of the room, looking at The Captain skeptically. 

"Hurt me." He pleaded, locking his eyes on Brock's face, holding him with both the welling right and cold metal left. 

Rumlow knew this was serious. Johann had brought a woman home into his bed once and The Captain had come to Rumlow then. The man just couldn't figure out the most basic of emotions. He couldn't figure out betrayal or jealousy or loss. 

"Safe word?" Brock breathed a sigh. 

"No safe word. Just don't kill me." He moved into a perfect kneeling parade rest. 

Brock worried his lower lip with his teeth but nodded. He understood.   
He briefly turned away, a panel in the wall slid down at his touch.  
An array of tools were on the wall and in a set of drawers that pulled out seamlessly. 

He selected one and turned to face The Captain again. With a flick of his wrist a baton very like the one The Captain himself favored, slid open with a metallic click. 

Even though The Captain braced himself the first blow across the right side of his face, sent him falling backward. He gasped, feeling blood dripping already.

"Get up." Rumlow ordered. 

The Captain had only just righted himself when the baton caught him squarely in the mouth, sending him to the floor again. His lips split, blood poured freely. 

"How hard is it to follow a little command? I said get up." Rumlow tapped the baton against his palm impatiently. 

The Captain hopped to the order, getting back into his position. 

Brock's boots echoed as he circled the man kneeling on the floor. The baton cracked out several blows onto The Captain's back, striping it with angry red marks.   
The Captain was more composed for this. He took the blows with grace, maintaining his perfect posture.

Another blow caught him across his right ear. It made him gasp if only because his hearing was reduced to a strange ringing in that ear.   
Rumlow smiled at the sound. He stood in front of The Captain now, his hand roughly lifting his chin, thumb running along his split lip, playing along the injury. "Pretty like this, Captain." 

"St-stop fucking around." The Captain spat. 

Brock placed an open mouthed kiss on The Captain, savoring the way his blood trickled down his chin. "Did I say you could speak, huh?" 

Rumlow's elbow came down hard on The Captain's nose, he reeled backward and this time, Rumlow followed him to the floor.   
The man's hands were around The Captain's throat, squeezing hard, his knee thrust roughly between his legs. It was meant to hurt and it did, he was practically crushing The Captain's balls. 

The Captain clawed at Rumlow's hands but the man held on tightening his grip. 

Rumlow liked this, liked the fear in his eyes as he started to black out. Just as he was on the edge of consciousness Rumlow let go. The Captain gasped in a labored breath, he coughed raggedly and tried to get into his side where he could breathe easier without Rumlow's weight on him.   
"I wonder if this is gonna end sweet for you." Rumlow chuckled as he held him in place, watching him gasp for breath.   
His hand slipped down the outside of his leg, he gripped the handle of his knife and drew it out of his boot.   
"It's surely gonna end sweet for me, either way." 

He started with the face. If this had been anyone else, this would have been entirely off limits, but The Captain healed without so much as a scar every time. His knife left a long trail of red from his lower lip, down along his chin and onto the pale perfection of his throat. The Captain gasped out such pretty sounds. 

Rumlow concentrated hard as he began to carve little patterns out of the flesh of his chin and neck, little flecks of skin disappeared under the tip of that blade.  
Had his medium been anything other than flesh, he could have been famous for his knife skills. 

He leaned back, ignoring the pitiful sounds coming from The Captain, admiring his work. He had carved a bloodied vinework out of The Captain's skin. Beautiful. He ran his hand along the heated flesh, smearing the blood that ran in rivulets. 

"Feel good baby?" He asked in a low tone as his hand smeared the blood up onto his face.   
The Captain's chest was heaving and his right pupil was at a pinpoint. He couldn't form words to reply. 

The tip of the knife tapped The Captain's new metal orbital. "I like the new hardware." He purred as he leaned in and licked along the ridge of metal.   
The Captain gasped out. No one had touched this yet, and certainly not one had licked it. He almost hated that he could feel it.   
"D-don't touch it!" The Captain gasped.   
He was almost wishing he had went with the safe word as Rumlow's tongue began to explore every inch of the new eye. The Captain knew though, that they would be done when Brock said they were done. 

They were done much, much later. He made The Captain _scream_. Knives and needles were implemented, Whips and the baton. 

He was a beautiful collection of bruises and cuts. Every inch of him was bleeding.   
Brock had skillfully tied him up, his arms were tight behind his back, his legs tied in such a way that the knees remained bent. 

Brock had his mangled dick buried deep in him, now. Rumlow was moaning wantonly while The Captain sobbed. 

When Rumlow came inside him, The Captain first arched at the heat then whined at the absence of him. 

"You wanna cum, boy?" Rumlow asked, pressing his fingers against The Captain's entrance. "Use your words." 

"Please!" He gasped out. 

"Please what?" This felt familiar.

"Please let me cum!" He tried to press onto those fingers but they were pulled back.

"I don't think I heard you." 

"Please Sir, let me cum! P-please." His hips were grinding at nothing, his cock flushed red with need. 

"I don't think I will." He smirked, standing. 

The Captain wailed, frustrated tears slipping from his eye. "Please! Please, Sir?!" He keened.

"Such a fuckin' brat." Rumlow rolled his eyes and put his boot on The Captain's cock, lightly pressing. 

He moaned sharply.

"Get yourself off." Brock stated with disinterest. "I don't have all day." 

The Captain moaned eagerly as he rocked his hips against Rumlow's boot. He knew the man wouldn't let him do this forever, he knew he had a time limit. It almost hurt, the thick tread of the boot on his sensitive flesh, but it made it sweeter. 

When he came it made a mess of both his healing torso and Brock's boot. 

Rumlow roughly cut him free, not really caring if he also cut him in the process. He didn't have to tell the freed man to clean his mess. The Captain's tongue was already lapping his own cum off the boot. 

"You need afters, baby?" Brock cooed sweetly when The Captain was done. 

"Please Sir." There was a warm fuzziness in The Captain's head. He held out his arms and Brock helped him to his feet. He almost couldn't stand at all, even with help. 

"I've got you, sweet boy." Rumlow stated, fuck, it was such a contrast. Almost like he was a different person. 

There was a shower attached to the room, just a large tile room with a shower head jutting from one wall.   
Rumlow guided The Captain into this space and held him while he adjusted the water. He sat him down on a steel bench long enough to strip out of his own bloodied clothes.   
When he guided him under the spray The Captain made a sharp sound.   
"Shh, shh, I got you."   
He curled into Rumlow as the other man began to gently soap him down. He started with his blood matted hair, being careful of the new metal addition to his skull. When he'd gotten him sufficiently clean he tapped his hip.  
"C'mon, kneel down so I can wash too." 

The Captain knelt down without hesitation, though he ached at the loss if contact. 

Rumlow was sad that the original cuts he'd made were all but gone. It had been so pretty.   
He flinched when The Captain's hand came to lightly rest on his dick.  
"What happened?" The Captain asked softly, his fingers played over the thick scar. 

"Buncha assholes is what. Don't you worry about it. I'll get em. Might have already got one. Fuckin bitch dog." His hips jerked when the other man's lips pressed to the scar. 

"I'll help you kill them" The Captain promised. 

Brock laughed a little and helped him back to his feet. 

"Still need me, baby?" He asked as he towelled The Captain down. 

The Captain nodded, "Hold me." 

They ended up in Johann's bed, Rumlow lay atop the sheets while The Captain was curled under them at his side.   
All the mess from earlier was cleaned away. Not a speck of broken China or drop of paint remained anywhere.   
"Brock?" The Captain addressed him after a while. 

"Can you help me?" 

"Haven't I been?" He shifted to look fully at the other man.

"S-somethings wrong with me." The Captain slid out of bed and went to the desk. He took Johann's pen from it's holder and a piece of stationery.   
The only sounds for a while were the scratching of pen on paper.   
When he came back to bed he handed Brock the paper. "This is missing from my mind. It's driving me absolutely crazy. I think I'm falling apart." He was sobbing. 

There was a detailed sketch of The Soldier on the paper. It made Rumlow's heart nearly stop.   
"This is. . . You shouldn't have drawn this." He crumpled it up and took his phone from his pocket. "I'm calling Zola, he'll get you right."

The Captain grabbed the phone and turned it off. "No, please. I know. . . I know what he does is supposed to be good for me but I . . . I'm getting scared that things aren't so wholesome. I'm scared." His hand gripped at the metal portion of his head. "They're ripping things out of my mind, I --- what else don't I remember?" His fingernails dug into the seam between the metal and flesh on his scalp.   
"Brock, I don't remember being a child. I don't remember my mother. What am I? What am I supposed to be!?" He was hysterical. 

This was bad, Rumlow knew it was bad. He gently took the phone from The Captain and turned it back on. "Calm, it's okay baby. It's okay sweet boy. We'll figure it all out." He cradled him to his chest and sent a quick sos text to Johann himself. 

Johann ignored the fact that The Captain sought comfort from someone other than him. He ignored that he clung tight to Brock as the man left.

"Geliebter. It's alright." Johann kissed his neck and rocked him gently. "Our dear friend Dr Zola is coming for a visit. Don't worry." 

The Captain was sobbing brokenly. "Who am I?" He cried against Johann's lapel. 

"You're my dearest love, yes?" Johann laid him back on the sheets and smoothed his hair back. "Breathe with me. We all have little existential crises every now and then."   
Johann heard the door open and click closed.   
"Our friend is here to help you now." 

Zola approached and without hesitation or words he slotted a needle onto a pinhole above The Captain's left eye. 

The Captain panicked in the seconds before the plunger was depressed. He'd never been so lucid for this, he'd never been unrestrained. Johann had never seen this. 

The pain took him mind, body and soul. His body contorted, arching entirely off the bed, all his muscles straining at once, locking and cramping. He screamed out.   
His consciousness was flickering. He felt like he was going to die. Maybe he would.   
When his body went limp, Johann nodded at Zola.   
Zola frowned but slotted another full syringe into the hole. 

This time The Captain's screams were inhuman. 

Rumlow, the cruelest sadist Hydra had to offer, regretted lingering at the door.


End file.
